


Burn and Make Me New

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Clint and Phil FTC (Fuck the Canon, I Do What I Want) [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Play, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, doesn't really make sense, don't really care, just wanted to write something short and quick and sexy, sexual negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil answered the light tap on his door to find a young man dressed in black jeans and a black henley. Rough around the edges, he looked the part perfectly, from his calloused fingers to his spiky blonde hair covered in a stocking cap. The service was rarely this dead on or this fast in response to a call. For once, Phil began to think, maybe, just maybe, this would work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn and Make Me New

Phil answered the light tap on his door to find a young man dressed in black jeans and a black henley. Rough around the edges, he looked the part perfectly, from his calloused fingers to his spiky blonde hair covered in a stocking cap. The service was rarely this dead on or this fast in response to a call. For once, Phil began to think, maybe, just maybe, this would work.

 

“Come on in,” Phil said, stepping aside to let the man pass. “I’ve got the contract on the table. We should go over the limits before we begin.”

 

This part, Phil hated. Admitting what he wanted and telling some stranger exactly what to do. Even though he knew SHIELD vetted everyone in the service, he’d been raised to not talk about deviant behavior, as his mother had called it, much less pay someone to perform it with him.

 

“Standard d/s rules apply -- my safeword is Minneapolis, plus red, yellow and green  -- and the scene is open to interpretation but the force part is integral. No marking, minimal bruising, and I have my own handcuffs as well as hypoallergenic lube and condoms. Condom use is non-negotiable.”

 

“Your own handcuffs? Hyperallergenic?” The man blinked his eyes and Phil realized he hadn’t moved further than the table, still standing and staring at the form Phil had handed him.

 

“Specially designed for the swivel hook in the wall at the head of the bed,” Phil explained. “With an emergency release.”

 

“Okay, that makes sense.” He rolled the paper between those fingers, blunt nails and rough skin. Phil had a flash of them on his skin, biting into his hips and holding him tight.

 

“As you can see, in terms of shaming, the topics are limited to the act itself, nothing outside of the bedroom. No hitting, but struggling is part of the submission.” Phil made himself go over the rest of the list. “Threats are fine as is immobility and delayed gratification.”

 

“I think I’ve got this.” The man pulled out a chair and sat down. “You need to lose control, let someone else take over.”

 

“Yes. That’s it exactly.” Phil was impressed by the man’s insight. Usually the service guys followed the prescribed game plans but had no input. “An illusion of no choice.”

 

“Then the burglar scenario won’t work.” His lips turned up at the edges, the beginning of a grin, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. Older than Phil had first thought, the man tapped his fingers on the table absently as he spoke. “You’d take an intruder down in a heartbeat. No, a world-class assassin would be better.”

 

Phil thought about it. “Yes,” he agreed. “That’s acceptable.”

 

“And what about weapons?” the man asked.

 

“I prefer guns, no bullets of course,” Phil admitted. “But I’m not adverse to knives.”

 

He flattened out the contract and read over it, taking his time as he covered each paragraph. “And this is what you want?”

 

“Yes.” This was the first time he’d been asked so bluntly; facing what he needed to get off was actually cathartic.

 

“Okay.” The man breathed out a long sigh. “Okay. We can do this. You get in bed; I need a minute or two. I assume you want it to be unexpected, well, as much as it can be.”

 

“That’s not really possible, but, ideally, yes.” Phil was always aware this was nothing more than pretend. That, ultimately, was one of his problems; in the end, he was still in control. It was always awkward  when he was all too aware of the game, before the fantasy took hold. No matter how much he suspended logic, he knew he could break out of the cuffs, that he was letting someone use him. Still this was the best he could, so Phil turned towards the bedroom.

 

“Oh, are you okay with improvisation?” the man asked. “With the safety system in place, of course.”

 

“As long as we’re within the boundaries,” Phil nodded in agreement. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

Lying in bed knowing someone else was in the next room certainly didn’t put Phil in the mood. It went against his training to allow a stranger to be out of his sight, and his cock usually rebelled for a bit, taking its time to get interested in the proceedings. But tonight was different; just the thought of those fingers around his wrists, and Phil’s cock jumped to attention, more than ready to go. Easing the waistband of his sleep pants down, he began stroking himself. The echo of that voice … “You need to lose control” …  caused Phil’s heart to race. What would it be like, he wondered, to have someone who understood, who shared more than an hour or two? Caught up in the fantasy, Phil’s cock hardened under his palm.

 

The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed into his temple. “Well, now this is a fine sight. Like you were expecting me, getting ready.”

 

Phil froze, his hand still loosely cupped around himself. A tremor of lust ran down his spine as he cut his eyes to the left. Shrouded in shadows, the man’s Walther pistol was steady and unwavering.

 

“Don’t stop on my account. I’m a fair man; might as well get off one last time.”

 

Backing just out of arm’s reach, the man stood, gun directly pointed at Phil’s head.  His eyes roved over Phil’s bare chest and Phil’s cock which jerked in response. The gun barrel glinted in the light that filtered through the blinds. Slowly, Phil began to pump his cock, awkwardly at first, but then stronger with firm strokes. He kept his eyes on that gun, biting his bottom lip to keep the sounds bubbling up from getting out.

 

“Don’t. I want to hear you.” Hard eyes, his voice pitched low. It punched right into Phil’s gut and he moaned, a soft sound in the back of his throat. “You like this, don’t you? Being watched. Being the cock slut you are. Or maybe it’s the gun. Turns you on, doesn’t it?”

 

“Oh,” Phil planted his feet on the bed and arched his hips up to get leverage. He could feel the tension building but he didn’t want to come this soon.

 

“We’ll have none of that.”

 

A hand gripped Phil’s wrist and pulled his hand away, snapping the silvery cuff on with ease and yanking it over Phil’s head. Before Phil could blink, his other wrist was trapped, the chain between the cuffs hooked into the swivel on the wall. Then his feet were yanked down until his arms were straight and his sleep pants disappeared. Left completely bare, Phil shivered not from the cold but the ease with which the guy manhandled him into place.  

 

“Ah, now that’s more like it.” He laid the gun on the dresser, tugged his shirt off and toed off his boots. Next came his belt and button of his jeans. As he stepped out of the denim, Phil got his first look at the man’s cock. Not as long as Phil’s but thicker with a slight curve. Phi’s mouth went dry as he measured the girth with his eyes; his muscles clenched at the thought of it inside of him.

 

It surprised Phil when he stalked not to the foot of the bed but the head and swung his leg over Phil’s arms, straddling the elbows and cradling Phil’s face in his hands. The tip of the man’s cock smacked Phil in the face; with knees pressing his biceps into his ears, Phil’s vision narrowed down to inner thighs and the underside of the thick shaft nestled in dark blonde hair. Even though his feet were free, a sense of being trapped rolled over Phil; gasping, he bucked his body, bumping his nose into the hanging ball sacs and only managing to shift his head further into the vee of the man’s legs. He couldn’t get free and, for the first time ever, he truly believed this man could make Phil do whatever he wanted.

 

“Hey, you okay?” As the man sat back, Phil took a deep breath. “Red, yellow, or green? If you need to stop …”

 

“No, I’m green.” Phil’s chest rose and fell quickly, keeping pace with his heartbeat. “It’s good. Too good. Don’t stop.”

 

“Less smothering?” Blue-grey eyes, brimming with concern, stared down at him; something melted in Phil’s chest at the honesty he saw there.

 

“I like it,” Phil admitted, able to give voice to his desires for once. “And I’m ready for more.”

 

“Good, because we’re going to put that mouth to good use.”

 

He framed Phil’s face with his hands, thumbs digging into Phil’s jaw; Phil opened his mouth under the pressure and licked the head of the cock as the man slid it inside. He didn’t stop, pushing deep until he hit the back of Phil’s throat then he retreated and slid in again. Phil moaned around fullness, his nose buried in pubic hair, his arms immobile, and his own dick throbbing and hard against his stomach. He couldn’t even roll his hips up; hands held him down, curved around his waist as the man leaned forward for a deeper angle. Nothing to do but lay there and take it, let the guy fuck his mouth with abandon, just like Phil needed. Releasing the tension in his shoulders, relaxing his throat, riding the growing wave instead of fighting it.

 

“Look at you, how much you like it, my cock in your mouth. You love it. You want every inch of me. Such a good boy”

 

The words poured over Phil, igniting a spark he’d long thought dormant. Bending his knees, he planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips, thrusting up in a helpless attempt to alleviate the aching desire to come right this second.

 

“Oh, oh fuck.” The man’s cock throbbed in Phil’s mouth and abruptly disappeared. The bed dipped and Phil turned his head to see the man sitting, head bowed, taking deep breaths.

 

“Color?” Phil asked in a raspy voice.

 

“Green. Just need … a second …” He looked up and gave a lopsided smile. “Almost ended things way too early there. So damn intense.”

 

“I know.” Phil’s chest rose and fell quickly; the breeze from the air conditioner was like a caress across his overheated skin. “Take your time.”

 

He chuckled and eyed Phil’s cock. “Yeah, I don’t think parts of you agree with that.”

 

“It can wait,” Phil assured him.

 

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to give up? Controlling your desires?” He moved as he spoke, pushing Phil’s knees down and straightening out his legs. “Handing the reins over to someone else is a heady thing and down right difficult.” With a quick move, he flipped Phil over on his stomach, the hook swiveling to accommodate the change, then lifting Phil up on his knees. Face mashed into the pillow, Phil tried to use his elbows to raise up his head, but a strong hand on the the back of his neck kept him down. Fingers pressed hard just below the pressure points, a stark reminder that Phil should do as he was told.  

 

“Oh, God,” Phil groaned, his cock bobbing in the air between his legs, not even the friction of the bedspread to grind against. Fingertips brushed across his hole as they opened him up for inspection, circling and teasing the tense muscle. “Please.”

 

“Please what?” that voice which would haunt his dreams for months to come growled.

 

Phil heard a click of a lid and felt the cool slick of the gel. “Please. Hold me down. Fuck me hard. Make me come. Turn me loose.”

 

Two thumbs pressed, breaching the muscle and sliding inside him, and he welcomed them by shifting back with his hips the little distance he could, silently begging for more. He’d loosened himself up earlier after he’d called the service; as much as he liked the fantasy, he didn’t like the burn nor the danger of doing permanent damage.

 

“God, look at you, so ready and eager, all slick and stretched out for me. Such a greedy little hole you’ve got.” The man’s breathing was ragged, as affected by the scene as Phil was. “I bet I could slide on in without any prep at all, couldn’t I? You’d just part and take me the whole way until I bottomed out in your tight little ass.”

 

“Yes, yes, oh God, do it,” Phil babbled. Right back at the edge as if they’d never stopped, Phil’s felt like he was just about to tumble into something new. “Please.”

 

“Fuck.” A mumble followed by the absence of fingers. The tiny bit of logic left in Phil heard the mewl of protest that came from his lips, but the rest of him didn’t give a damn once the head of the man’s cock bumped against his hole and eased inside him. Slowly but without stopping, the thick shaft filled Phil. Hands gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises and the last bit of doubt fled as Phil groaned loudly.

 

“Good. So good. Yes. Give it to me.” Words flowed and Phil had no idea what he was saying, just that he didn’t want this feeling to stop anytime soon.

 

“So tight, so hot, holy hell. Oh, God. You’re perfect,” the man replied.

 

Pretenses dropped away as they fucked, just bodies coming together in the most primal way, one giving, the other taking. As the thrusts grew stronger, Phil’s knees slipped wider and the man moved a hand to Phil’s neck and the other to his waist so he could change to longer strokes that ran across Phil’s prostate both in and out. Phil’s focus collapsed to a few points of contact: leather lining of the cuffs, fingertip touching his pulse point, palm weighing on the small of his back, skin slapping against skin, and the constant jolt of electricity that drove him up and over, off the cliff and into the unknown.

Thought and worry fled, leaving a pleasure more intense than Phil had ever experienced. Like swinging in a hammock on the beach, sitting before a roaring fire in a lodge, or standing in front of the Mona Lisa. Awe mixed with contentment and warmth. A perfect moment rolled higher by the sparking bliss of release. Phil was coming without a hand on him, just from the feeling of completion alone.

 

“Oh, God, oh, Phil, oh shit.” The man stuttered and thrust, coming in fits and starts that blurred as Phil floated into that amazing space. They dropped to the bed together, a sweaty heap of skin, and Phil reveled in the heavy weight that covered his body. LIps tenderly kissed the spots on his neck where tiny bruises would be tomorrow.

 

“Good God in heaven, that was fucking amazing,” was whispered in his ear. Then the weight left and Phil shivered in the cold, huffing his displeasure at the change.  A chuckle accompanied the gentle stroke of fingers through Phil’s hair damp hair. “Shhh, I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

 

Footsteps padded away and Phil didn’t move, body boneless and replete. God, but he needed to get this guy’s name and ask for him personally next time. Usually, the service guys left immediately afterwards, and Phil had to clean up himself. Lying here amplified the endorphin high that Phil didn’t want to end yet.

 

The cloth was warm and eased along Phil’s skin; soft nudges helped him roll over and out of the wet spot where the caresses continued, washing his thighs and flaccid cock. Up his stomach and chest then fingers replaced the rag, stroking along the lines of his neck and jaw. Phil cracked his eyes open to see blue-grey irises filled with humor staring down at him. Tilting his chin up, Phil invited the kiss, a tender brush of lips across lips that, once started, settled into long languid explorations. Phil could have kissed him for hours, curled together in bed as the night slipped towards dawn. But his throat tickled and he coughed, breaking away to rumble and clear out the last bit of harshness.

 

“Hey, you need something to drink to rehydrate. Water from the tap or bottles?” One more time, he rolled off and left Phil alone, sunk down in the covers, missing the body heat.

 

“Side door of the fridge,” Phil told him, thoroughly enjoying the muscular curve of the man’s ass as he left the room.

 

Rolling to his side, Phil saw the red light blinking on his phone. As  much as he didn’t want to, he reached out and grabbed it, worried he’d  miss an emergency call. Two voicemails waited; he tapped the icon and put the phone to his ear.

 

“You have 2 new voicemails. First Message.”

 

“Agent Coulson, this is Barb. I’m very sorry about the delay; our man is caught in a traffic tie up, a accident and a water main break down near 34th. I’m afraid he won’t make your appointment window; please call me and we’ll can talk about alternative arrangements. Again, my sincerest apologies.”

 

Phil sat up, adrenaline shocking energy into his muscles.

 

“To save this message, press 4. To replay the message, press 7. To delete the message, press 9.”

 

He stared at the open doorway then over at the gun lying on the table.

 

“Second Message.”

 

He rolled, coming up to sit on the side of the bed, the gun under his leg, phone still tucked to his ear.

 

“I know it’s your time off, Cheese, but I’ve got a clusterfuck to deal with and I need you. Chou imploded and the Cookeville mission went down the drain; I know, I know, you warned me about promoting him so wipe that smug smile off your face. Anyway, I’m sending that new asset, Barton, over to your place to cool off and reassigning him to you. I don’t want this to keep him from signing on long term. Make sure he knows that not everyone at SHIELD’s like Chou.”

 

Good God. Phil was the biggest idiot on the face of the Earth. Talk him down? Phil’s face flamed red and his heart began to pound in his chest.

 

“Hey,” Barton walked across the room, holding out a water bottle. “I expected to find you asleep …” He paused, reading the tension in Phil’s shoulders; his gaze flicked to the stand and back. “Coulson? What’s up?”

 

“You’re Clint Barton.” Phil’s mind was reeling but he kept his face impassive through long years of practice.

 

“Yeah,” Clint drew the word out, confusion evident in his stance. “Was that in question?”

 

“I just … you weren’t who I was expecting.” Helpless suddenly to find a way out of this mess he’d made, Phil’s stomach fell and a tremor ran through his body.

 

“Whatever’s going on,” Clint said, sitting down beside Phil on the bed, “you need to be careful. Here, drink this and let’s get you under the covers. With as strong a release as you had, it would be easy to drop.”

 

Shaking his head, Phil pulled away from Clint, putting space between them. “I’m supposed to be your new handler, damnit. This is tantamount to harassment. You show up, and I talk you into sex? Good God, I’ve made a right royal mess of things.”

“Phil.” Clint’s hands cupped Phil’s chin. “I needed this as much as you did; I’ve been shoving that part of me down for far too long.  Best thing you could have done for me; I was on a razor’s edge after Chou’s stupidity. And it was damn good consensual sex. Really good. Like, I want to cuddle up with you and sleep the rest of the night so I can wake up feeling even better in the morning good.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Clint.” Phil was shaking all over, tipped at the top of a steep hill and preparing to fall. He knew exactly what was going on; it happened sometimes after when he was alone. “I …”

 

Clint leaned in and kissed him silent, stealing Phil’s breath and replacing the cold in his chest with his heat. It felt so right that Phil didn’t protest when Clint bundled him under the covers especially when Clint crawled in with him after carefully putting the gun back on the nightstand.

 

“It doesn’t matter how we ended up like this,” Clint murmured, slipping an arm under Phil’s stomach and tucking Phil’s head into the crook of his neck, their feet tangling together. “I want to be here. Maybe next time you can fuck me into the mattress when I need it.”

 

Tilting back from the edge, Phil extended his arm across Clint’s chest and pushed his worry aside. The morning would be time enough to think about the repercussions of tonight. “Sometimes I like to be on top,” he agreed. “But I should warn you. When I am, I’m in total charge. No arguing, no back talking, no sass.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Clint replied.

  
  



End file.
